


Bordering on Fevered Terrier

by doomtwinkie (shinysparks)



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Abbie Mills Is Working It, Abbie Mills Shines, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Crack, F/M, Ficlet, High Ichabod Crane, I've had waaaaay too much caffeine, Ichabbie Forever, Ichabbie Spring, Ichabbie Weekend, Scooby Doo references abound, Sickabod Crane, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, no really I blame mountain dew, shameless crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-07-11 03:44:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7027129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinysparks/pseuds/doomtwinkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flu-stricken Ichabod Crane waxes philosophical after too much cough syrup and Scooby Doo episodes.</p><p>No border terriers were harmed in the making of this fic. ;)</p><p>Vague prequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6167680">Jinkies</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thymelady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thymelady/gifts).



> Oh god, I don't even... _*facepalm*_ I should go on hiatus from Facebook a LOT more often. It's done wonders for the muse...

"Leftenent?" Ichabod croaked weakly, pausing to have another brief coughing fit as he reclined on their couch. He eyed the Scooby Doo cartoon on the TV intently (and almost drunkenly.) "Do you ever wonder if, perhaps, we are merely characters in some sort of television play?"

Abbie sighed, sitting down next to him, her leg against his sweaty head.

"Huh?" She asked, absentmindedly wiping some of the damp hair off his forehead.

"That we are merely the playthings of some sort of writer? That we are no different from Scooby here? That each week, we encounter a different monster in which to fight, with the guarantee that we will defeat it so some audience somewhere will find some sort of amusement?" Ichabod continued on, a terrified look on his face. "That we will never truly escape from this, so long as we're interesting? That they will make spin-offs of us in the years to come and add an annoying puppy to keep it fresh? Oh god... what if it's a border terrier..."

Abbie groaned and rolled her eyes. She sat up and grabbed the bottle of cough syrup from off the coffee table in front of them. She inspected it carefully.

"Exactly how much of this stuff did you take while I was gone, Crane?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out... there was more to this story. Oh god.

“Have you ever wondered what our children might look like, Leftenant?”

Abbie spit out the tea she’d just taken a drink of, and coughed hard. She turned and gave Ichabod a look like he’d just spontaneously given birth to kittens. He smiled at her drunkenly, and winked - first with one eye, and then the other. She shook her head and set the teacup down.

“I mean you’reprettysoveryverypretty...” he slurred before coughing, his eyes filling with tears, “and I’m... I’m adorable. We’d make pretty, pretty babies together.”

Abbie turned and stared ahead, stared blankly into the TV that was still playing an episode of Scooby Doo. She blinked, and her mouth fell open. She then picked up the empty bottle of cough syrup and read the warnings again. Grabbing her phone, she googled a few things, eyes growing wider as she scrolled.

“We could have kids. Seven of them. And we’ll name them all ‘Ichabod.’ Even if they’re girls.” Ichabod continued to mumble, “and then we’ll live in a fine house in the woods, and we’ll get a dog... not a border terrier, though. Definitely not a border terrier.”  
“Yep.” Abbie finally said, putting her phone away and sitting the bottle back down on the table.  
“You... you mean you agree? That we would have lovely, beautiful children together?” Ichabod asked, grinning from ear to ear before succumbing to another coughing fit.

Abbie sighed.

“No, I mean ‘yep, it’s time to get you some proper medical attention.’ Get your coat, Crane...” She told him.


	3. Chapter 3

“Crane? You okay over there?” Abbie asked as she pulled up to a red light. She turned and looked him up and down. He had said nothing for several miles, not since he’d apparently gotten tired of trying to pronounce “dextromethorphan” and explaining what had possessed him to drink an entire bottle of cough syrup. “I thought it was similar to the cough syrup my grandmother made,” he’d told her, “it was peppermint and... whiskey. Lots and lots of whiskey.” He had then blinked slowly, and asked “I’ve made a grievous error, haven’t I?”

“Yep,” she’d told him, right before he threw up into the floorboard of the passenger’s seat. Abbie sighed, and pushed the accelerator as soon as the light turned green. She made a mental note to buy Crane a scrub brush later.

Crane was still being quiet - too quiet, almost. She worried, briefly averting her eyes and staring at him staring ahead, his eyes glassy and tired.

“Crane?” She asked again. He nodded and wiped his mouth.

“I... I never entertained the idea of us being together, Leftenant,” he mumbled, still staring ahead, “but I now know that I was just lying to myself. What... what we have can never be platonic because...” he looked over at her, catching her eyes, “...because I love you. I love you, Leftenant.”

Abbie drove off the edge of the road, skidding onto the shoulder before coming to a complete stop. She looked over and stared at Crane incredulously; however, he had barely noticed anything at all; not the rough stop, and not her staring. Instead, he just looked into the backseat, his eyes so wide they were nearly popping out of his skull.

“I... I don’t mean to alarm you, leftenant,” Crane said at barely a whisper, “but there is an angry looking border terrier pacing in the back seat.”

Abbie turned to look, but as she expected, there was nothing there. Crane continued to stare behind him, eyes wide with terror. She sighed.

“He is looking at me... and he’s growling... and now he’s screaming about ‘puppy power,’” he whispered, voice quavering. He eyed Abbie, eyes glassy and full of fear, and took her hand. He held it tightly. “What do I do, leftenant? What do I do?!”

“Well. I know what I’m doing,” she replied, working her hand out of his grasp before reaching over and turning on the hidden police lights and siren in her car. Crane jumped at the sound, and then froze in his seat.

Abbie then floored the accelerator...


	4. Chapter 4

If anything could be said for Abbie Mills, it was that she was one thousand percent done with this bullshit.

She leaned up against the stretcher in the emergency room, her face buried in her hand. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to remind herself to breathe, just breathe. Her head was starting to hurt, and it got worse the longer she continued to stand there.

“PUPPY POWER!” Crane screamed, as he ran past her, wearing a hospital gown and not much else. She eyed him through her fingers. She wondered if he were running from his hallucination, the border terrier puppy that had first shown up in her back seat. Or perhaps, he’d become the border terrier himself? She wasn’t sure; and her train of thought on that subject ended up getting derailed the longer she watched him. It seemed that he’d somehow stripped his 18th century underpants and was running bare bottomed. Even stranger, he had apparently traded his underwear for a six foot tall cardboard cut-out of Iron Man, which he carried as he ran. She groaned, watching as a handful of nurses and at least two doctors chased close behind him, begging him to calm down, and to stop.

Abbie had half a mind to help them, but then... headache. Yeah. 

She wondered where he’d found the energy, what with his raging flu - that horrible sickness that had prompted him to drink that entire bottle of cough syrup before crashing on her couch and binge-watching all those Scooby Doo episodes. Crane ran past her again, screaming “LET ME AT ‘EM!” as he passed, his fists balled. He nearly dropped Iron Man in the process.

 _All this, because he thought the cough syrup was really peppermint and whiskey,_ she thought to herself, shaking her head, _actually, some whiskey sounds really good right now..._

He ran by a third time, calling her “Velma” as he passed. She raised an eyebrow, and considered shooting him right in the ass for it. She was no Velma, after all. “That’d slow him down,” she mumbled to herself, fingering her gun, which was still in its holster on her belt. She sighed, and instead made a mental note to only buy the cough syrup with the child safety caps from there on out. He’d still not quite mastered those, after all...

She heard him running, coming again for another pass, his bare feet slapping hard against the cold, tile floors. She shook her head.

“I’m sorry, Crane,” she muttered, reaching behind her and grabbing the stretcher’s mattress pad. She grunted and yanked hard, throwing the mattress pad to the floor. She then stuck her foot out just as he passed, tripping him and sending him flying forward. He landed with a loud “THUMP” onto the pad, completely beheading the cardboard cut-out when he collided.

 _Huh,_ Abbie thought to herself, as the cardboard slapped against her legs (and she eyed Crane’s exposed bum,) _I suppose that’s one way to kill Iron Man..._

The nurses and doctors were on Crane, tackling him hard. He fought them, still screaming “PUPPY POWER” and calling for his “uncle Scooby” to come to his aid. One of the doctors then stabbed him hard in the thigh with a syringe. Sedative, Abbie figured, wincing as Crane cried out.

“I WOULD’VE GOTTEN AWAY WITH IT, TOO,” He screamed at the top of his lungs, still wrestling against them, but weakening by the second, “HAD IT NOT BEEN FOR... FOR... YOU MEDDLING... MEDDLING...”

He passed out, his arm still wrapped around Iron Man’s decapitated head.

“We’ll have to restrain him,” one of the nurses told her, frowning, as they let him go.

Abbie smirked, and raised an eyebrow.

“Can I help?” She asked, eagerly. “Please? Pretty please?”


	5. Chapter 5

Her queendom for a goddamned tylenol.

Abbie’s head was pounding by that point, and it had been that way for what seemed like an eternity. She’d had hopes that putting Crane in restraints might help - at least he’d be safe that way; however, it had not done much for her growing tension. For one thing, the sedative had apparently not worked very well; or at least, the unconscious part had worn off too quickly. He’d awoken just as she placed his arm in the last restraint, and smiled at her, drunkenly. Very drunkenly. She sighed. Crane was still high as a kite.

“Restraints? Really?” He’d mumbled, grinning from ear to ear, as she tightened it, “all you had to do was ask, Treasure...”

He’d then winked at her, and she plopped down in the chair next to his bed, burying her face in her hand. Her cheeks were flushed from the embarrassment, and her head kept going “thump, thump, thump.” She wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand it.

Hearing some commotion from Crane, she peered over at him through her fingers. _Oh god,_ she thought. Somehow, the decapitated head of Iron Man had ended up in the bed with him, and he’d just found it.

“Alas, poor... Eddard!” Crane slurred, holding up the head as best he could with a restrained arm, “I knew him, Abbie...”  
“Crane, no.” She said, lifting her head out of her hand.  
“A fellow, infinitely just, of most excellent... excellent... um... _excellence._ ”

Abbie groaned. She was certain Shakespeare had just rolled right over in his grave.

“That’s Tony Stark, Crane. Not Eddard Stark.” Abbie then told him.

Crane eyed her curiously, before turning his head and looking at the cardboard head.

“Are you sure, left...leften... Abbie?” He mumbled, “it looks like Eddard Stark to me.”

He wiggled the disembodied head at her, and then burst out laughing. Abbie snorted, trying to hide her own laughter (and at the same time, regretting loaning him her entire _A Song of Ice and Fire_ collection.) He needed rest, not encouragement, she figured.

“Left...lef... Abbie?” He stammered, tossing Iron Man’s cardboard head into the floor and looking over at her with very glassy eyes.  
“Yeah, Crane?” She asked.  
“We’re... we’re no strangers to love...” He began to sing.  
“Oh god,” mumbled Abbie.  
“You know the rules, and so do I!”  
“Crane, no.”  
“A FULL COMMITMENT’S WHAT I’M THINKING OF!”  
“I swear to god if you keep singing, I’m going to write ‘prostate exam’ on your chart.”

He stopped singing, eyes wide. She wasn’t sure if he was fearful or just confused by her threat - _did he even know what a prostate exam was?_ she wondered - but at least he’d stopped singing. Or proposing. Was he actually proposing? Now, it was her turn to be confused.

Under different circumstances, his flirting would’ve been cute. It would’ve been sweet. However, watching him profess his undying love to her while sick; while high on cough syrup; in between puking all over the floorboard of her car; while hallucinating a border terrier; while half-naked and underwear-less; while strapped to a bed after running around the ER thinking he was Scrappy Doo; while drunkenly rick-rolling her? That... that was something else.

Then the nurses came in. And then, they pumped his stomach. And then, he quickly reenacted the Exorcist all over her fine shoes. Whatever mood that he might’ve tried to set died right then and there.

Abbie sighed, and quickly excused herself to go clean up.

She found the restroom fairly quickly, but it took her quite a while to clean up the mixture of charcoal and vomit off of her shoes. The shoes cleaned up surprisingly well; however, she wasn’t certain she’d ever get the smell out. She groaned loudly, holding onto her still pounding head. Hopefully, they’d discharge him soon. Hopefully, she’d be able to go home soon. Hopefully, there would be some aspirin in her near future.

And then she heard him scream.

“GAAAAAAAAAAAAH! NOT THE HORSEMAN!” Crane yelled at the top of his lungs.

Abbie nearly jumped right out of her skin. Shivering, she grabbed her gun and cocked it. She took a deep breath. A fight was coming, and she had to save him.

She took off running.


End file.
